


Compliment

by imachar



Series: 30 ficlets series [7]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Outdoor Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-29
Updated: 2012-12-29
Packaged: 2017-11-22 19:52:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/613623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imachar/pseuds/imachar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris takes Phil home to meet the parents - Phil's impressed with the margaritas, less so with Chris's idea of what constitutes discretion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Compliment

**Author's Note:**

  * For [norfolkdumpling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/norfolkdumpling/gifts).



> Unbeata'd - read at your own risk. For **norfolkdumpling** who had a bad day....

“Good goddamn, your mother makes the best fucking margaritas on the planet.”

Already sprawled naked in the hot tub, Chris tilts his head back to watch as Phil walks out onto the back patio of the ranch guest house and grins at the sight of him carrying two mason jars brimming with generously salted, on-the-rocks, margaritas.

“She jokes it’s why Dad married her.” He reaches up to take one of the makeshift glasses and lifts an eyebrow as Phil sets his down on the lip of the redwood tub and makes to climb in.

“Yeah? I’m pretty sure he had better reasons than that.” 

Phil’s sitting on the edge now, his legs in the water, about to lower himself down and Chris intervenes, placing one hand on his knee as he asks in a tone of slightly aggrieved disbelief.

“What the fuck are you _wearing_?” 

“What does it look like I’m wearing?”

“Sorry, let me try that again - _why_ the fuck are you wearing _anything_?” Chris arches his back and lets his lower body float to the surface in the oversized tub, making it very clear – as if it wasn’t already – that he’s not only naked but expecting sex in the very near future, his cock a flushed curve against his belly.

“We’re on the back porch of your parents' guest house.” Phil’s giving him that look, the raised-eyebrow frown that intimidated the fuck out of him the first couple of times they got together, but is having a little less effect as time goes on.

“And your point is?”

“That I’m not getting naked out of doors at your folks place – and…” Phil pauses as he slides into the water, clearly not intending to disrobe just because Chris is flaunting his assets to the desert night air. “…I’m sure as fuck not having sex out here.” He raises the mason jar and takes a deliberately long, slow swallow of his drink. It’s unsurprisingly good enough to elicit a slightly wanton moan and does nothing to blunt Chris’s intention to get Phil naked and interested in fucking sometime within the next ten minutes. 

Chris waves a hand, gesturing beyond the porch towards the desert. “There’s no one out here’s gonna see anything.” The porch faces north, away from the main house, and there’s nothing but empty desert between them and the foothills of Covington Mountain. He’s genuinely baffled at Phil’s reticence. While he’s far more reserved than Chris, he hasn’t seemed overly shy up to this point; Chris has vivid memories of an exhausting couple of days shore leave the previous year that had involved a hot tub, a deck and a spectacular view of the Trellaat Tropical Wilderness “Come on, remember how much fun we had on Celes II?”

“We’re on a porch...” Phil’s tone has descended into his talking-to-an-irritating-adolescent register. “…less than a hundred meters from the _other_ porch, the one where your Dad – who, by the way, is the scariest fucker I’ve ever met – is entertaining three senior staff officers and their spouses.”

“Bark’s worse than his bite – really, I’d never have survived high school if he was as much of an asshole as he makes out.” Chris knows that Josh comes off as a flint-eyed, humourless martinet most of the time, but he’s not really that bad – no man who’d bought his son a vintage Martin D-28 guitar to make up for the disappointment of passing the Starfleet entrance exam at 15, and then having to wait two years to meet the minimum entry age, could be all bad.

“Come on, no one’s gonna come looking for us.” Chris grins, and slides one foot up Phil’s thigh; ignoring the baleful look he gets in response as he insinuates his toes up under the leg of Phil’s swim shorts. “It’s not like they don’t know we’re fucking.”

He only just manages not to laugh as Phil drops his head back against the lip of the tub and groans “Oh, for fuck’s…” his voice trails off and then he snaps his head up and glares at Chris again, “You know I’m not going to be able to look anyone in the eye at breakfast tomorrow.”

“So, we’ll stay in bed.” Chris knows he’s close to really pissing Phil off, but the foot that’s now resting in the hollow of Phil’s groin is privy to the fact that no matter how vocally Phil is protesting the idea of sex right now, his cock is entirely up for it. 

“I swear you’ll be the death of me, Chris.” There’s still an irritated edge in Phil’s voice but his capitulation is evident in the way he wriggles out of the swim shorts and then extends a hand across the breadth of the tub. “Come here you little shithead.”

Straddling Phil’s lap, Chris shivers at the way his cock slides against the wiry curls below Phil’s navel as he sinks down and lets himself be drawn into a strong, deceptively tender embrace. 

“So, if we’re doing this, we’re doing it my way.” The irritation is gone from Phil’s voice replaced by a sly, slightly possessive control and Chris is just a little uncomfortable with how utterly turned on he gets when Phil decides to take charge. 

“Meaning?” Reduced to one word sentences as Phil wraps the fingers of one hand tight into his hair and tugs sharply, Chris takes a ragged breath at the feel of the other hand stroking up his cock and then back down to curve around his balls. 

“Meaning, I’m going to grab that lube that you so thoughtfully provided and I’m going to slick up my cock and then you’re going to ride it until you fucking scream.” Phil finishes by tugging Chris’s hair until he tilts his head, baring his throat to the slick heat of Phil’s mouth. 

And, even as he shudders at the feel of Phil’s teeth on the underside of his jaw, Chris realizes that he’s been totally and utterly played. He’s pushed Phil into high-risk sex in the open and now he’s going to pay for it. Sex and quiet are mutually exclusive terms for Chris, but over a decade of communal living in Starfleet has taught him to keep the noise down just enough to be discreet – it’s only been in the last few years, and only because of Phil, that’s he’s been reminded of just how loud he gets when he’s fucked to orgasm.

He takes a breath and shifts against the thick cock that is sliding up the cleft of his ass, shivering with anticipation of what it’ll feel like when it spears him open and then leans down and rests his forehead against Phil’s, holding his gaze for a long moment. There’s heat and power and a deeply buried kindness in the deep blue eyes that are looking back at him and Chris knows that Phil would back off if he thought that Chris was genuinely uncomfortable with what he’s suggesting.

“Okay, I guess you aren’t going to be the only one sitting at the breakfast table not able to look anyone in the eye.”

Phil grins and curves his hand around Chris’s nape, and in the moment before they meet in a long, hot wet filthy kiss he whispers. “What makes you think you’re going to be _sitting_ at breakfast." 

_Fin_


End file.
